


Rope Therapy II

by crushing83



Category: X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Badly written accent, F/M, Logan does the tying, Maybe OOC, Non-Sexual Submission, Rope Bondage, Too Much Talking, forced conversation, mostly picturing movie!Logan, no set point in x-men universe, not an instruction manual, nothing overtly sexual, reader POV, rope, second attempt at writing a new fandom, slight abduction, vague descriptions of rope tying, wibblywobbly verb tenses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-13 02:19:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3364127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crushing83/pseuds/crushing83
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just as there are times when he wants and needs time with you and rope, there are times when you want and need time with him and rope, too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rope Therapy II

**Author's Note:**

> Had another idea after posting [Rope Therapy](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3244856), and I couldn't let it go. It doesn't feel as finished or polished as the first installation, and for that I apologise, but other than that, no regrets!

Just as there are times when he wants and needs time with you and rope, there are times when you want and need time with him and rope, too. 

You want it when you're wound up, when you've had a good day, when you want to be helpful (to him in particular).

You need it when you're twitchy and can't relax, when you're spoiling for a fight, when it's been too long since you've felt basic human contact. 

Whether you want or need it, you're not always sure how to ask for time alone, with him and his rope. 

He was the initiator in the beginning. Even after more than a year, he's still the main initiator. You occasionally ask, but if events conspire against you, you wait for a better time. His wanting times often coincidentally (luckily) concur with many of your needing times, anyway. 

When you _really_ need it, you tend to pull away, trying to keep yourself (and your vulnerabilities) hidden. Logan often tracks you down when you become scarce. Whether he finds you or you find him, though, he treats you the same as he always does; he finds his calm and does his best by you, helping you to find your own sense of quiet. 

You've been in the middle of a needier phase for a few days now---a result of a bad conversation with family heightened by the stress of waiting around for two teams to come back from supposedly low-risk missions---and hiding away in your room and the boathouse as a result. 

It feels worse than it usually does---like something's been building up for a few months---and you're not sure how or when it'll explode out of you. 

But you are sure Logan shouldn't be around when it does. 

You're not lovers, and because of that, you reason, you shouldn't saddle him with your emotional baggage---especially when you're not sure what's inside those particular suitcases. 

You've forgotten that Logan rarely does anything but what he wants, the right thing be damned. 

He finds you on your way from the dock to the mansion. He has a bundle of rope sticking out of his back pocket and a determined look on his face as he marches up to you. 

"Logan----"

"C'm'ere," he grunts. When you stay where you're standing, he growls and takes the seven steps to where you're standing. When he has his arms wrapped around you, you shove at his chest and he snorts. "It's gonna take more than that to push me away, darlin'."

"I'm okay. You can go play cards with---"

"I wanted to hang out with you, but couldn't find you anywhere," he interrupted. "I could smell you all over. That olive stuff you love so much, and your lemony shampoo. But I could also smell distress. Bad day?"

You shrug. "Something like that." 

Logan frowns. "You're always there when I need it. Why do you think I can't be there for you when you need it?" 

"I'm okay."

"Liar."

You sigh. 

"C'mon," he insists, "tell me about it." 

You bristle. He must feel you spoiling to pull away because he tightens his hold on your body. 

"There's nothing to tell," you mumble. 

"Alright then," he says in his incredibly calm voice. 

You know he's going to do something and you tense. He snorts and swings you up into his arms and over his shoulder; you protest but your fists against his back are pretty ineffectual. 

"You think you're the only one to have figured your partner out?" he asks as he marches you away from the dock and water and towards the woods. "You think I don't know when you're fighting your own demons?" 

"We're not part---"

"Just because we ain't knockin' boots, you think that, huh?" Logan asks. He chuckles and jostles you. "I never took you for being an idiot." 

He carries you deep into the woods that makes up a good chunk of the property around the mansion. You struggle the whole way, but he doesn't release you. He's an immovable force and there's nothing you can do. 

When he stops, he swings you down onto your feet and grabs the rope from his pocket. Before you're aware of what's happening, he's managed to tie your wrists together with a couple of no-slip shackle knots.

"Logan," you protest, "you don't have to do this---"

"I do," he says calmly. "I also want to. So you fight as much as you need to. I've got ya." 

He toes out of his boots and steps barefoot into the grass before dropping to his knees and tugging you down with him. He pushes you down, ignoring your struggles, until you're flat on your back and he's hovering over you. 

One of his hands is on the rope---soft, red nylon---and your hands. His other hand is rummaging for something off to your left. A minute later, his hand pulls up and back and then he swings it forward. 

You flinch as the sound of metal stabbing dirt reaches your ears. 

"Easy, darlin'," he murmurs. 

He lifts up on his knees and you tip your head back to see him tying the loose ends of the rope on your wrists around a metal spike he's staked into the ground. 

"Logan..."

He leans down and presses a quick kiss to your forehead. "I have been wanting you all tied up and at my mercy for days now," he confesses, "and now that I've finally got you here, I'm not letting you escape."

"Evil old man."

"Sticks and stones, darlin'," he purrs back. 

You wriggle and buck up against him, in an attempt to unseat him. He grins in response. 

"What?!"

Logan laughs. "Feels good, girl. Keep it up."

You feel your face warm and he continues to laugh. Sex and sexual contact had been one of your hard limits when you'd first discussed getting together. Over the last year, sex remained a hard limit, but your refusal of sexual contact had become more lenient. Some of it had been discussed, some of it had been sensed. Despite that slow change, Logan's casual comment catches you off-guard and you aren't sure how to respond. 

"Don't worry," he murmurs. He kisses your forehead again and leans down so his face is close to yours. "I'm not pushin' for more. Just sayin' it feels good for me, if you wanna keep tryin' to get free that way." 

"Jerk." 

Logan laughs again. "Get it all out of your system," he suggests. 

"Why are you doing this?" you ask. 

"Because." 

You watch him ease up off of you and reach for his bag of rope. Surprised you hadn't noticed it earlier, you look around and see what else you missed. A few other stakes were driven into the ground around you. There were a few folded blankets off to the side by a fire pit. A cooler was next to them. 

Logan had been planning. 

This pleases, embarrasses, and infuriates you. You're not sure what to make of that, but it's how you feel. You feel Logan start to tie one of your legs. You growl and kick out; he chuckles and keeps tying. 

"You get it all out. You're not gonna stop me from tying you up," he tells you calmly. 

He ties separate pieces of rope around both of your ankles and ties its other ends to the stakes nearest to your feet. You wriggle as much as you can, but he still manages to secure your legs. 

"There," he comments quietly, almost under his breath, "Now I've gotcha where I want ya."

You scowl. He chuckles. 

He unsheathes his claws. After giving you a moment to process the sight of them, he goes to work carefully removing your clothes. You're incredibly glad you hadn't put on anything you're particularly attached to, because everything but your underwear is soon in tatters on either side of you. 

Once he's pulled the remains of your clothes free, he grins rather wolfishly at you. 

"Beautiful, darlin'," he assures you. 

"You just gonna sit there gawking at me?" 

"Maybe."

You scowl and tug at the ropes. When you look at Logan again, he's staring at your breasts; you roll your eyes and tug again in another lame attempt to get free. 

"You just hang out there and wriggle all you want," he says. "I'm still gonna truss you up to my liking." 

You lie there and watch as he gathers up some rope before returning to your side and beginning the process of wrapping you up. 

There's more function than fashion in the rope this time. He's not relying on practice or routine; he's just trying to get you as secure as possible, as quickly (and as safely, you realise as he takes notice of pressure points the same ways he usually does, even with your struggling) as possible. 

When he's finished, he sits back on his heels and looks down at you. 

"That oughta hold ya," he teases you. 

You growl. He laughs. 

"Darlin', you're about as threatening as a cranky kitten," he says, still chuckling a little. 

His amusement pokes at all the negative feelings you'd been feeling and you snarl and thrash in reaction. He doesn't react much, just watching you with a calm, quiet expression. 

"Why are you doing this?" you ask. 

"Because you need to get it all out," he tells you. "Because you let me get it all out, but you keep a lot bottled up. And that's gonna stop now." 

"Logaaaaaan..."

"You can whine and shout and cuss me out all you want," he says calmly. "No one can hear us. You can hate me if you want to, or you can thank me by snuggling up real cosy later, but either way, I've got ya, and I'm gonna stay here as long as it takes." 

You tug your arms, but you can barely get any room to really pull. You holler and try to kick but he'd tied your legs well, too. You rock back and forth and try as hard as you can to get free, but all that happens is that you lose your breath. 

"What's on your mind?" Logan asks. "What got you to this point?" 

"Nothing," you grumble out while panting. 

"Liar."

"Stop calling me that!" you snarl back. "We're friends. I can't saddle you with all my ridiculousness!"  

You give flailing free another try. You curse and glare at Logan but he doesn't give in and release you. He kneels there, watching you as you struggle against the rope he tied you up with; his calm attitude, which normally relaxes you, only stokes the fire inside of you until you're spitting mad and thrashing from side to side. 

"If you really want to get free, just say the word," he tells you. 

Safewording hadn't occurred to you. You stare at him, startled. He smiles a bit; you growl. 

"Let it out," he says quietly. "Yell. Cry. Whatever you need."

Yelling has never been your thing. You don't remember the last time you raised your voice in anger. You frown. You aren't even sure what you'd yell about. 

"I..." you try but can't get the words out, even at a quiet volume. You sigh and close your eyes. "This is silly." 

"It's not, if it's got you twisted up inside." 

"I shouldn't."

"Why not?" 

"Because it's not fair!" 

He sighs and puts his hand on your stomach. "Darlin', don't be dumb." 

"Logan," you mumble, "it's not... this isn't supposed to be about me."

"It's not?" he asks. He chuckles, but you notice it almost sounds a little sad. "Sweetheart, it's very nearly all about you. I get to lose myself in tying you up. You let me take charge without hurting anyone. 

"Every time we get together, with or without rope, you give me a bit of peace," he admits. "And the fact that we don't fuck isn't an issue for me. You're my bottom. I'm your top. We're partners." He pauses and winces. "This is more talkin' than I planned to do." 

"Logan..." 

He bends forward and kisses your cheek. After nuzzling into your temple, he sighs. You turn your head towards his and kiss him. 

"I'm sorry," you whisper. "Anyone else I've ever played with... if I got upset or asked for too much, things soured pretty quickly. Before, I could just meet someone else at the club, but this is different... if I lost this, you, I'd be lost, too." 

"Tell me everything." 

You do---not without some hesitation, but you do. You tell him about the phone conversation you had with your parents where they asked if you'd given some thought to returning home, being normal, and living your life the way they've always felt you should. You tell about your doubts about the training Scott's decided it's time for you to have. You tell him about how waiting around and worrying about him, Remy, Ororo, and the others just about kills you. You tell him about your worries that he'll find someone he can fuck and tie before you decide if you're ready and able to take that step and offer him what you've been withholding since the first time he'd tied you up in his rope. 

He doesn't say anything until you've talked yourself hoarse. 

"Darlin', what am I gonna do with you?" he murmurs. He reaches out and brushes his fingers through your hair. "You belong here. Your students love your class---must be nice, by the way---and you have a safe place to be yourself," he reminds you. "As for worrying about me and the others, well, if you do well with Scooter's training, you might join a team and then you'll be able to help keep some of us safe." 

"Oh. I hadn't thought of that," you mumble. 

He smiles. "But, I can't lie, girl," he adds quietly, "knowing you're safe here, waiting for me to get back... it's what I look forward to when I get sent out. Even if all I have the energy for is a hug."

You blush. He smiles more. 

"And finding someone to screw? Isn't so important when I can tie you up."

"Logan. It's not... y'know, release," you mumble. 

"Yes, and sometimes that fucking sucks," he admits. "But, when you told me you weren't sure if you were actually asexual or just out of practice with nothin' but bad experiences behind you, I said I wouldn't push for more. I won't."

You nod. "I know. You haven't. Thank you."

"Don't get me wrong, there are times when I can smell how turned on you get, all tied up, and the beast in me wants to take ya hard and fast and really make ya mine," he admits, ending his confession in a rush. "But, for now, I'm real glad it's me that gets you to feel like that." 

You close your eyes as your face heats up even more. You hear Logan laugh softly. 

"Too much honesty?" he asks. 

"Just the right amount," you murmur. "I'm sorry I was avoiding you." 

"Apology accepted," he whispers. "Ready to be untied?" 

You smile a bit. "Give me a few more minutes?" you ask quietly. When he laughs a little again, you say: "It's kinda snug. I like it." 

Logan nods. "Alright. Any chance you might wiggle a bit more? I was enjoying the show." 

You laugh. 

He grins. When his smile fades away, he rubs your stomach. "Go on, slip into your quiet place. I'll stay close. But remember what I said, alright?" 

You nod. Logan bends over and kisses your forehead. Then he sits up and scoots back. You hear him light a cigar; you close your eyes and think about all you to discussed, and everything you'd felt while trying to resist. You tense against the ropes, feeling them holding you tightly to the ground. You feel a rush of security, instead of the (pretty close to irrational) aggravation from before your confessions. 

You relax. 

And you drift. 

It could've been seconds that passed, or hours; you aren't aware of much but the feel of the rope against your skin and Logan's presence. 

"Mmm," you hum tunelessly.

"I'm here," Logan says quietly. He cuts you free with his claws, at your wrists and ankles, and then he pulls you up into his arms and against his body. "You okay?" At your nod, he chuckles. "A little rope drunk?" 

"Maybe," you admit. 

"Want me to untie the rest of you?"

You shake your head. "Not yet." 

"Alright," he concedes with a little laughter in his voice. "You let me know when you're ready." 

"Thank you." 

He settles down against a fallen log and pulls you into his lap. He pulls one of the blankets over you and his legs. 

After a few minutes, you whisper: "I'm glad it's you, too." 

Logan chuckles. "Good," he murmurs. "And any time you run, I'm chasing after you, darlin'. Remember that." 

You tuck your face into his chest and inhale deeply. You smile. The sensations you associate with feeling unsettled and off-balance are gone; you feel calm and quiet and safe. 

"I'll remember," you whisper. 

The End

  

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I might revisit/tidy this later. But! Thanks for reading!


End file.
